Eight More Months
by purplepenguin1013
Summary: A glimpse into Sam's pregnancy, one month at a time.
1. Eight More Months

_A/N: In this fic Sam is a Major, Jack is a Colonel, and Pete doesn't exist. Also, insert standard disclaimer here, I don't own 'em and never will._

Sam entered her lab dismayed but not surprised by the sight that greeted her as she turned into the room from the corridor. It was the same scene that had played out each morning for the past two weeks. It had almost been flattering the first few days, if not a bit disconcerting. Teal'c would stand stoically in the back of the room, calmly perusing the book in his hands. Daniel could be found perched on a stool, brow furrowed and hand to his forehead intently studying his own tome. If Sam didn't know any better she would think he was deep in thought trying to decipher a new language or studying a new artifact. And then there was the Colonel. The man who normally couldn't sit still for more than thirty seconds without fidgeting would be sitting atop one of her tables near the door, completely engrossed in his own reading material. He would move only to turn the page or occasionally make a note in the notebook sitting in his lap.

As soon as she entered the room however, the tranquil image before her would come to life. "How was your morning?" Daniel would inquire, despite the fact that it was barely eight o'clock and Jack would have already filled them in on everything that had happened from the moment she awoke until the time she arrived on base, leaving only the thirty minutes she spent in the infirmary without them in question. Daniel would stare at her with a goofy grin, looking her up in down for any change in her appearance from the previous day. Before she could answer, Teal'c would have approached and begun his morning prayers for her health and happiness. Daniel would then take her hand and place his other hand on the small of her back to lead her to The Chair.

The Chair had become the most dreaded object in her lab. Specially designed by Siler, the large armchair was raised so, seated, she could reach the top of her work benches. It had wheels so, as was explained to her by the overzealous sergeant, she would never have to get up and could just push herself around. The arms had pockets and compartments to keep anything she could possibly need close at hand.

Sam hated The Chair. Her work required her to stand, pace and move around to properly carry out her experiments and study her data. She tried appeasing her teammates by climbing into the monstrosity upon first arriving at her lab and pushing it in the corner out of her way as soon as they left. However, every time one of them stopped by to visit, which occurred like clockwork once every thirty minutes, they would insist she resume her position in The Chair. Before leaving each morning, Daniel would pepper her with questions concerning her mental and physical well being while Teal'c stood by absorbing and committing to memory every word with a small smile on his face. The Colonel would remain seated throughout the entire ordeal the corners of his mouth turned up as he gazed at her devotedly and unabashedly. Only when they were satisfied that she was comfortable and in good spirits would they leave her alone for a half an hour.

This morning, however, was going to be different. Sam had woken this morning with some morning sickness and Jack, the involved and concerned husband that he was, had stayed by her side, made her tea and toast afterwards, and practically carried her to the car to drive to the base. The Doctor nearly had to order him from the infirmary, assuring him that it was most likely normal morning sickness and probably had little to do with Sam's experience with Jolinar. Said experience was the reason for Sam's daily visit to the infirmary as the Colonel, General Hammond, and the Doctor all wanted her closely monitored through the pregnancy due to her body's unique physiology.

Thus, Sam held her breath as she entered the lab, hoping that by some miracle Jack had been held up on another level somewhere and hadn't been able to reach her lab first to brief the boys on her morning. Much to her dismay, her teammates had already assembled in her lab awaiting her arrival.

"Sam…" began Daniel.

"Major Carter…." interjected Teal'c.

"Honey, what did Doc say?" Her husband looked at her eyes intense with concern.

"I'm fine, just morning sickness," Sam responded with a tight smile.

"Thank god," Daniel muttered under his breath while the other two visibly relaxed.

"My reading material does not discuss this aspect of Tau'ri gestation." Teal'c gestured toward the book he was reading that week on pregnancy across various humanoid cultures.

"Oh, you should borrow mine!" Daniel turned to the Jaffa, holding out his book entitled _New Additions: the Guide to Pregnancy for Male Friends and Relatives_. "It has an entire chapter devoted to physiological responses to pregnancy like hormone changes and nausea."

"Yeah, the stuff I found on the internet breaks it down pretty well," the Colonel interjected helpfully. "We should all look through it later…"

Sam continued to stand in the door way and stare at the three as they began comparing notes and discussing her condition as though she wasn't even there. Her eyes widened in shock as Jack adopted a tone of voice frighteningly similar to Daniel's "lecture tone" to describe in excruciating detail this morning's events and how they related to what he had read.

And that's when she saw it.

Mounted in the corner of the room was a brand new digital camera, similar to the ones attached to the MALPs used to survey other worlds. Sam knew just by glancing at it from across the room that it was equipped with infrared, night vision, and full audio recording capabilities.

"What. Is. That.?" she asked slowly, employing a tone of voice that all who knew her well knew indicated barely contained anger. Conversation stopped as the three turned towards her with guilty expressions on their faces. Well, Daniel looked guilty. Teal'c looked as guilty as Teal'c could look and the Colonel's cheeks reddened as he slowly opened his mouth in an attempt to find the best way to explain their actions to his wife.

"Sammy, when I got here this morning the three of us decided that since we don't know exactly how your pregnancy will progress we should be able to keep an eye on you even when we can't be in the same room. The normal security cameras don't give enough information, but this camera is so cool, and look, the three of us each have our own handheld digital monitor that links to the camera feed and we can use to check in on you…" He rambled on about the cameras virtues while Sam felt the heat rising up her face.

This was the last straw. She had finally had enough. She stormed over to the camera, tore it off its wall mount, deposited it in The Chair, and proceeded to shove the hated objects out the door and into the hallway.

"Now, Sam..."

"…its for your own good…"

"...our only concern is the health of…"

The three men followed her into the hallway, their entreaties falling on deaf ears. Sam whirled around and eyed the three, fire spitting from her eyes.

"Don't!" she spat venomously "I will be fine. I am barely four weeks pregnant. I don't need twenty-four hour surveillance, I don't need to be treated like an invalid, I don't need advice from every pregnancy book in print! I need you to leave me alone!" With that she spun on her heel and reentered her lab slamming the door and pulling the padlock she had purchased unbeknownst to the Colonel out of her pocket and placing it on the door.

"It's the hormones," she heard Daniel say knowledgeably even though she knew perfectly well he had no experience with pregnant women. "Let's give her a few minutes before trying again."

"I am sure she will see reason then, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c asserted. "Major Carter is a most logical person and will understand our need for vigilance."

"I don't know, T," said Jack, as the trio started down the hall. "Normally, Sam's a genius, but considering her condition we may have to get Hammond in on this one. She won't disobey a direct order. When Sara was pregnant…" Their voices faded out as they turned a corner and Sam slumped against the now padlocked door drawing knees to her chest.

It was going to be a long eight months.


	2. Seven More Months

The wormhole disengaged and she allowed a smile to slowly spread across her face. She turned and retreated from the gate room, responding with the appropriate nods and smiles to those who greeted her as she traversed the corridors on her way back to her lab. Her smile grew as she neared her door, making a mental list of the few things she needed to take care of before she escaped the base early. After sending a couple of e-mails and shutting down some experiments she was going to leave for an entire weekend at home alone.

The thought of a solitary two days with no one to interrupt the peace and quiet she was planning for herself was such an exciting prospect that she could no longer contain the grin that now took up her entire face. She entered her lab trying to think of various ways in which she could thank Thor and his buddies. A card? A fruit basket, perhaps? Oooooh, maybe mini-muffins, everyone likes mini-muffins, and quite frankly, when your normal diet consisted of brightly colored blocks that looked like something her three-year old nephew would love spending hours stacking together (what were they called again? duplex…no…duplos! Yeah that was it!) and tasted like a combination of burnt cheese, rancid meat, and congealed milk, you'd have to be appreciative of any sort of alternative food offering. Then again, maybe the Asgard liked the way their food tasted. Or maybe they didn't know it was bad. She had never actually seen an Asgard tongue; after all, they might not even have taste buds. But Thor had said he like the yellow ones which, would indicate some sort of ability to distinguish between the pieces of food, unless maybe he just preferred the color…

She continued pondering the apparent color preferences of everyone's favorite little gray man as she packed up her laptop and made her way to the door. Yes, she really would have to find a way to thank Thor. His intervention, albeit unintentional, was the reason for her upcoming carefree weekend. Thor had done what Sam had been unsuccessfully trying to do for two months- get Colonel Jack O'Neill, Dr. Daniel Jackson, and Teal'c off world and away from her.

From the moment they had found out she was pregnant, they had been nothing but "supportive". They catered to her every need, complimented her, indulged her, treated her like a princess. It had been fun, rather flattering, for oh, say, twelve hours. And then her patience had thinned and worn down, amusement turned to exasperation, exasperation turned to annoyance, annoyance to frustration, and frustration into mind-blowing fury. The constant hovering of her teammates, always watching over her, not letting her do anything for herself, preventing her from performing her normal duties, all the while with these sickly sweet expressions and tones of voices that were so patronizing she felt about eight years old.

The three had somehow managed to stay on-world for nearly two months to baby-sit her. The Colonel convinced General Hammond that he just had to be in charge of training new SGC recruits to test out the new entrance trials that were being implemented. Daniel insisted on being the one to oversee the creation of a new artifact cataloguing system, as he was the one who always ended up having to explain the significance of such objects to the higher-ups. And while his fascination with computers had never in the past gone any further than searching the Internet and spamming all SGC personnel with websites containing dancing hamsters and the like, Teal'c suddenly had a great interest in contributing his knowledge of the Goa'uld to the base's new software program designed for creating virtual reality simulations of Goa'uld technology. Thus, they were always with her. And there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

Until the glorious day when Thor again appeared out of nowhere in the briefing room, requesting SG-1's presence for some highly important matter. The Colonel had argued, raged, begged, pleaded, and cajoled the General to excuse his presence from the mission but to no avail. If the High Commander of a race that had the ability to pop in and out of Earth's most top secret underground military facility whenever he damn well pleased wanted SG-1, then he was going to get as much of the team as possible. Jack had gone as far as to threaten quitting until the General reminded him of the rising costs of college tuition and if he wanted to be able to put his unborn child through school then he'd better say "Yes, sir" and gear up. Daniel's puppy-dog eyes were useless on the General, who had learned long ago to combat them when they came from his granddaughters, lest he find himself sitting with his chin practically on his knees in a tiny pink chair, with and purple hat on his shiny head while sipping imaginary tea from a chipped plastic cup. Teal'c did not argue but glared at the General, fixing him with a gaze usually reserved for those inhabited by parasitic snakes.

In the end, the three agreed to go as long as Sam promised not to work while they were off world. Hence, her weekend off. She hadn't even argued, knowing that this was exactly what she needed, time away from the watchful eyes of the guys and pretty much everyone on base. As she exited her lab and turned to lock the door, she allowed herself a little squeal of excitement, figuring if anyone heard, well, she was pregnant, she could blame it on a hormonal imbalance.

"Major Carter? Are you okay?"

Damn. No one was actually supposed to have heard. She turned and looked sheepishly at the concerned faces of Sergeants Harriman and Siler. "I'm doing great, actually," she replied. Their faces visibly relaxed at her response and she continued with her explanation, "I'm just leaving early for the weekend and am excited, that's all."

"Excited?" Siler pried further. "Big plans?" his asked, brow furrowing as though the thought of Major Carter doing anything this weekend was a problem.

"No, nothing big," she assured him. "I'm just going to enjoy a nice quiet relaxing weekend at home. But don't worry I will be just a phone call away if anything comes up that needs my help, okay?" she added, assuming his apparent apprehension resulted from the possibility of her being out of contact for a few days. Her conjecture was confirmed as the sergeants exchanged relieved glances.

"Well, okay then, have a good weekend, Ma'am," Harriman said.

"Thank you," Sam replied as she continued down the corridor. "I will see you both on Monday," she finished, shaking her head in amusement. Sometimes it seriously felt like the base would fall apart if she left for a few days. Well, let it fall apart. She was taking this weekend off!

By Sunday morning, Sam was bored. Friday night had been great; she'd curled up on the couch with a trashy paperback and a large mug of hot chocolate. Saturday had been spent shopping, baking some cookies, fooling around on her laptop for awhile, and spending the evening with a large bowl of popcorn and a few chick flicks. However, by Sunday morning, she was itching to get back to the base, and toy with her experiments. "No," she chastised herself, "I said I was taking a weekend off, and I am going to take the weekend off." Realizing she needed to relieve the excess energy that had built up over the past twenty-four hours she decided to go for a run. While she would cut back the normal five mile route she did while on downtime before she was pregnant, she figured a solid two and a half miles would tire her enough to keep her comfortably at home for the rest of the day. As she stepped out the door and breathed the late morning air, she decided that this was an excellent idea.

However, about a mile into her run she began to feel slightly unnerved. Almost the whole time since she had left her block, she had felt the tingly sensation of someone watching her. Twice she had glanced over her shoulder, once catching the sudden rustling of bushes. She had convinced herself it was a neighborhood cat or squirrel and kept going, but the tingling sensation remained. She brushed it off as paranoia until she noticed the white nondescript government-issue van traverse the cross-street in front of her.

Completely on guard now, she quickened her pace slightly and glanced surreptitiously about her surroundings. As she crossed the next street, she looked to her right and saw the same van approaching. "Shit," she thought, not knowing who they were, but understanding that she and her baby were in danger. There were various government agencies and private companies that would love to get their hands on her, especially now that she was pregnant.

"Shit, shit, shit." She repeated the curse in her head, scanning the area for options. It was a quiet residential neighborhood with the houses placed fairly distant from one another, a prospect she and Jack had found appealing when looking into buying a house. With their unusual occupations, the farther away from prying eyes, the better. Being Sunday morning, no one was out on the street and Sam racked her brain trying to remember if there was a store or gas station nearby she could make it to in order to find help.

She picked up the pace, almost sprinting now, and glanced behind her to see that the van had turned on to the same street she was running on, and had increased its speed to match hers. To her left, bushes began shaking and rustling; something much larger than a cat was obviously hidden within. Refusing to panic, Sam glanced desperately around one last time and saw it - on her right a wall had appeared, encompassing a local farm. It was about fifty yards off the road, and she knew if she could just make a break for it and hop the wall, she could evade the car and then deal with the individuals on the ground.

Gathering her last vestiges of strength and adrenaline, Sam broke abruptly to the right and made a beeline for the wall. She heard the bushes crash behind her and the van's tires squeal as it suddenly sped to catch up. She had about reached the wall when she realized that no one was chasing after her. She turned and saw the van screech to a stop and a figure jump out the diver side door and point something at the two figures that had come tumbling out of the brush.

Sam stood stunned as she heard one of the masked bush-men shout rather uncertainly, "You hurt her and I'll…uh …kill you?"

The other bush-man jabbed his compatriot in the ribs with his elbow and asserted with attempted bravado, "Yeah I've got a zat and I know how to use it!" He pulled the already disclosed weapon from its holster and pointed it at the masked man, who had gotten out of the truck.

The man from the truck seemed to pause in confusion almost, before replying, "Well I've got a tranquilizer gun and _I'm_ not going to let _you _hurt her!"

The weapons remained raised and pointed towards their targets as Sam approached the scene.

"Major Carter, stay where you are, I've got everything under control!" squeaked the man from the van, sounding not at all like he could control a cocker-spaniel, much less a potential shoot out.

However, his high-pitched declaration had been all too recognizable to Sam. Realization began to dawn on her as she marched forcefully towards the one holding the tranquilizer gun.

"No, Major Carter!" the other two shouted in unison.

Ignoring their pleas, she swiftly yanked the mask off the head of the man from the van and then crossed to the other two and pulled off their masks. She returned to the middle point between the two sides, crossed her arms over her chest and directed her best patented officer's glare at both parties.

"Dr. Felger?" the two men covered in leaves and twigs said incredulously.

"Sergeant Harriman? Siler?" Jay Felger replied, just as shocked.

"We saw the van-"

"I was watching the bushes-"

"We thought you were-"

"I thought you-"

"Enough!" exclaimed the fed up major. "I sincerely hope that this morning we received intelligence that a death threat was directed at me, or the Goa'uld-du-jour is approaching with a hand device that has my name on it, or you are all going to be in a world of trouble!"

Felger found the ability to speak first. "It wasn't my idea Major. Before Dr. Jackson left he said he was counting on me to watch out for you in his absence, and if anything happened, well, he didn't really say what he'd do, but he implied that my job wouldn't be the only thing I would lose, and well, ever since he descended he's gotten all…muscle-y and, well, _scary_ and I just-"

Sam held up her hand motioning for his silence. She turned to the dirt-covered sergeants and raised an eyebrow. "I assume the Colonel made it an order for the two of you?"

The sergeants nodded miserably.

"At least Teal'c had the decency-" she began, more to herself than to the three dimwits in front of her.

"Actually," Siler interrupted apprehensively, "the Colonel brought Teal'c along when he, um, informed us of our mission. He didn't really say anything he just sort of, loomed…" Siler trailed off as he noticed that Sam's lips had all but disappeared as she pressed them tightly together.

"So let me get this straight - you were instructed by various members of SG-1 to look out for me while they were off-world, and you decided following me on a Sunday morning, armed with alien weapons and government firearms was the way to do it?"

"Actually we've been camped on the hill behind your house since Friday night, right after you told us you were leaving early…" Harriman explained in a voice barely above a whisper. Siler glared at him and he responded, "What? She would have figured it out anyways…"

Sam closed her eyes as she replayed the conversation from Friday in her head, realizing her error in the assumption that the sergeants were worried about how the base would fare without her. They were just concerned about how it would affect their standing orders from her soon to be ex-husband!

She fixed Felger with a stare. "Um, since Saturday morning," the Doctor replied dubiously. "I must say, though, that blouse you purchased was an excellent shade, it will go beautifully with-" he began hopefully, looking to get back into her good graces through flattery. He stopped short when he saw the actual steam begin to billow from her ears.

"I suggest the three of you return everything you apparently 'borrowed' from the base before somebody discovers its missing and the three of you get in more trouble. Because I certainly won't back up your story. In fact, should anyone ask, I saw the three of you sneak off into the night carrying government labeled crates, and I recommend your permanent removal to Leavenworth! And I don't care if you're not military!" She all but shouted the last bit at Felger, who had opened his mouth to protest. With that she turned and began the mile walk back home, trying to come up with various ways to torture her teammates upon their return. She knew Jack wasn't being allowed back in the house for at least a few days…

"I guess we probably shouldn't tell her that General Hammond authorized the use of base supplies…" she heard Harriman whisper to Siler, assuming she was too far to hear.

It was going to be a long seven months.


	3. Six More Months

_A/N: Ladies and Gentlemen, round three. Let me know what you think. And I would like to say I mean no offense to supermarket checkers by this story. I was one myself in high school. Read on!_

Sam followed Jack into the house, shutting the door behind her with her one free arm. The other was laden with the lighter of the grocery bags, as Jack had purposely grabbed the heaviest of the bags and stumbled from the driveway into the house on his own. Heaven forbid they make multiple trips between the kitchen and the truck.

She bit her lip as she entered the room, wondering just which Jack she would be greeted with. It could be the pissed-off-angry-you-get-in-my-way-I-will-verbally-berate-you-until-you-cry Jack; however, that Jack was usually reserved for irreverent subordinates, or really oblivious men who tried to hit on Sam in his presence. Then again, he was fairly worn out and tired, so she couldn't completely count out the possibility. There was a chance it would be pouty Jack, the one who acted like he was about four years old and just wanted to suck is thumb while his Mommy held him. She was hoping for this incarnation. She hadn't seen her husband all week and would be more than obliging if all he needed was a little reassuring TLC to get him out of his mood. She put the bags on the countertop and turned to face the center of her existence, the love of her life, the father of her unborn child, blah, blah, blah, etc., etc.

He ignored her as he brushed past her in his own personal thundercloud and left the room.

Ouch. That would be I'm-so-angry/displeased/disappointed-I-won't-even-acknowledge-anyone-else's-presence Jack. That was more difficult to deal with. The only solution was to avoid him, until something insignificant like lack of Jello in the commissary, or the absurdity of the designated hitter rule in American League Baseball set him off, and he blew off enough steam to interact normally with people again. She hadn't really counted on this Jack. She didn't realize that the supermarket checker had hit such a nerve. The girl was barely eighteen after all, and from what Sam estimated from their previous conversations, could hardly be taken seriously. God, how she wished she had just brought Jack home and gone out to do the shopping alone. But no, they had decided it would be more efficient to stop at a grocery store that Sam used to go to before they moved in together, on the way home from the base. That way they could just spend the weekend at home together without having to leave the house, simply enjoying each other's company.

So much for that plan. It looked like it was going to be a long, quiet weekend in the Carter-O'Neill household.

The trip to the store has started out innocuously enough. They just needed a few essentials, bread and milk, and some stuff for dinner, pasta and sauce, and some laundry detergent. Sam knew the store well enough to find the items fairly quickly while a bleary-eyed Jack dragged his feet behind her, pushing the cart. They found a relatively short line and waited to pay.

The girl at the register glanced up at Sam as she rang up the items. "Major Carter!" she exclaimed, recognizing Sam from her years of frequenting this particular supermarket. "I haven't seen you, in like, forever! How are you? Last you told me, after I noticed that ginormous rock on your finger, was that you were gonna get married - how's that working out? Oh my god, Major, I hadn't even noticed, you're pregnant! You have to be you've always been so tiny, I would kill for your waist, but I totally see a bump! Are you? When are you having it? Is it a-"

Sam interrupted the loquacious teenager before the girl passed out from forgetting to breathe in between words. "Yes, I am pregnant. Just got through the first trimester, everything seems to be fine so far. Thank you for asking." She hoped that would put an end to the subject so could get out of there quickly. Jack was fighting to keep his blood-shot eyes open as he slumped over the cart.

But it was not to be. The girl looked up from her work again and this time took a notice of Jack. "What about you, Mr. Carter? Are you excited? Will this be your first grandchild?"

Jack's unfocused gaze settled on the girl. He opened his mouth as if to reply and then closed it again, thoroughly confused. Sam could almost see his mission-weary brain attempting to comprehend what was happening. She knew exactly when understanding dawned on him and interceded before he could do anything.

"Actually, I have a brother who already has kids," she answered before Jack could, handing the girl a wad of bills. "Keep the change."

"Wow, thanks, Major! Bye now, and congratulations!" she called after them as Sam half pushed her enraged husband out the door.

Looking back, Sam couldn't completely fault the girl. Coming back from a long week at the Alpha Site, Jack was looking anything but his best. His haggard face made him look a good five years older than he actually was. And Sam had just gotten past the initial nauseating stage of her pregnancy and was now looking particularly radiant. Her skin was full and eyes were bright; she knew with the extra rest she had been getting lately she could easily pass for someone five years younger. That coupled with the actual ten year difference in their ages, and well, right now, Jack could possibly look old enough to be her father. Especially to a teenager, to whom anyone over forty looked positively ancient. Sam remembered being that age and never being able to tell how old people were. So she could understand the girl's assumption.

But that didn't change the reality of the situation. Jack had been so tired that Sam had insisted on driving. She had concentrated on the road the whole way home, hoping the silent car ride would give Jack time to cool down and get over the insult at the supermarket. She hadn't counted on him still being angry. She didn't realize his age was such a sensitive issue, but now was wondering how he would feel as the pregnancy went on and after their child was born. How would he react after bringing their son or daughter to kindergarten the first time, seeing the other parents half his age? Her musings were interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Jack could you get that?" she called. "I want to finish putting the groceries away." She knew he was still in the silent stage of his anger where a request like that wouldn't set him off. He would either comply or simply ignore her.

She heard the door click open and Daniel's energetic voice fill the hallway. "Hey, Jack, I missed you guys before you left the base. I just wanted to check on some lab results with Sam and make sure these are accurate…" His voice grew louder and Sam could hear footsteps approaching the kitchen. Daniel walked in first followed by a still supremely pissed off Jack.

"Daniel, this may not be the best-"

"Hey, Sam, I know you wanted a weekend alone, and I promise to be out of your hair if you just look at this for me real quick."

Sam glanced down at the folder in his hands, acquiescing to his request, knowing that it would probably be faster to look at what Daniel wanted her to see then try to argue with the increasingly persistent archaeologist. Anthropologist. Linguist. Whatever hat he was wearing that day.

Daniel glanced over at Jack as Sam perused the folder. "Tough week at the Alpha Site?"

Recognizing the unique Jack O'Neill that-was-a-stupid-question look, Daniel racked his brain for something to cheer up his friend.

"Oh!" he burst out suddenly. "Jack, the funniest thing happened to me and Sam this week."

It did? Sam tore her eyes away from the numbers and tried to figure out where Daniel was going with this.

"So Siler dropped his wrench on his foot again on Wednesday-"

Jack snorted in amusement.

"Aaah…that wasn't the funny part, Jack."

The scowl returned.

"Anyways, this time instead of just bruising it or fracturing a toe he full on broke his foot; he's going to be in a cast for a few weeks. So a few people wanted to get him something and Sam and I volunteered to go pick up the 'get well soon' cake. One of the nurses ordered it; they had turned in a drawing of the Goa'uld healing device and told the bakery to decorate the cake with it, saying it was a tribal symbol or something representing long life."

Sam still had no clue where the story was leading.

"So, yeah, we were paying for the cake, which looked great by the way, and the girl behind the counter looked up-"

Oh crap. Sam knew exactly where the story was going.

"Daniel, I think-" she tried to interrupt.

"No, lemme finish the story, Sam, trust me Jack, it's great." Daniel looked like he could barely contain his own amusement while Jack continued to glare. Sam buried her face in her hands and prayed it would be over quickly.

"Right, so she looks up at Sam and says to us, 'I heard you talking about how you are expecting, and I just wanted to say, I think the two of you will have the most adorable child! Congratulations, and be sure to bring the little one in sometime. I want to see him or her with Mommy and Daddy.'"

The kitchen fell completely silent as Daniel waited eagerly for Jack's reaction. For the second time in one day, Sam saw the utterly confused look on Jack's face and cringed as she waited for realization to come once again. She would kill for one of Thor's timely interventions right now. Or maybe a Goa'uld invasion. Yeah, an unsuspected Goa'uld invasion targeting Colorado Springs so it would all be over quickly.

"Isn't that funny, Jack? I mean, she though _I_ was the father! That it was my and Sam's kid! She thought we would have a great looking child. I mean, I didn't know how to respond, I didn't want to laugh or embarrass her, it was an honest mistake, I can see how someone might-….Sam, why is Jack slamming his head against the wall?"

It was going to be a long six months.


	4. Five More Months

_A/N: Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. My muse deserted me for the holidays and when I finally managed to get this story written my hard drive crashed. After replacing it, I then had to regenerate my story. (Word of advice- back up your hard drive now!) So, I will no longer make estimates/promises as to when a story will be up because evidently that has disastrous results. Enough from me, enjoy the chapter!_

Sam approached her teammates, adjusting the bag on her shoulder. Teal'c stood stoically, surreptitiously surveying their surroundings. A caffeine-deprived Daniel peered owlishly through his glasses, waiting for instructions that he would most likely ignore anyways. Sam turned towards the Colonel as he began to speak.

"All right, just standard recon today. I've compiled a list of our objectives, here," he said, handing a folder to Sam and keeping an identical one for himself. "Danny and I will investigate this half, while the two of you can take these."

Sam stared down at the government-issue folder in her hands. Opening the folder, she took notice of the meticulous care and planning that must have gone into creating this itinerary. The first page contained a table of contents of their goals, while the subsequent pages outlined each objective in further detail.

Now, had this been a mission to an uninhabited world that showed possibility of possessing valuable resources, or an assignment to infiltrate a Goa'uld mothership, she would have been surprised, to say the least, at the time and attention that Jack had put into creating this document. He preferred to leave the task of painstakingly organizing the team's intentions on paper to others (usually Daniel or herself), while he took on the role of the fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants-space-cowboy who saved the planet in the nick of time, all with a sickeningly self-assured smirk plastered across his face.

Yes, this was the man who had attempted to convince the last president that reducing the SGC's mission report requirements would save enough paper to allow the politician to fulfill his campaign promises concerning the environment. However, due to the nature of their current task, Sam found herself not the least bit shocked at what Jack felt deserved both his undivided attention and the use of government supplies.

With a sigh of resignation, Sam looked up, letting her eyes wash over the large bubble letters adorning the sign visible from three highway exits away:

Babyworld.

From the moment the strip turned blue, this pregnancy had essentially been a group event. Thus, when it came time to consider what material items would be needed to raise a child in the 21st century, it was inevitable that the four of them would together go shopping. Hence the presence of one over-prepared colonel, one inquisitive alien, one bleary-eyed multiple PhD, and one wary mother-to-be in the parking lot of Colorado Springs's largest baby supply store at nine o'clock one Saturday morning.

"Carter, growing roots? Time's a-wasting, let's go," the Colonel positively chirped.

Old habits die hard, and it was amusing to see the various reactions garnered when strangers saw orders and "yessirs" being exchanged between people wearing matching wedding bands. Just last week, Sam had barely managed to convince a man who could have rivaled Teal'c in stature that no, her husband did not need to be taught a lesson in how to treat women. She had, however, left him to his own devices when they were overheard by a gaggle of feminist divorcees. The sheer look of terror and entrapment on his face was worth the silent treatment she had received afterwards.

Taking a deep breath, she readjusted her purse and securely tucked the folder under her arm as she moved quickly to catch up with her teammates.

"Ok, let's meet back here in one hour to compare our findings," the Colonel said as the automatic doors parted before them "Good luck."

After forty-five minutes of shopping, Sam was reminded why she generally opted to let Jack and Daniel take charge of educating Teal'c in various matters of Earth culture. She had a feeling that her explanation of infant cognitive development had done little to assuage the Jaffa's confusion as to the rationale behind a multi-colored musical mobile. The first twenty minutes in the store had been spent in the clothing section, where Sam attempted to answer questions along the lines of, "Major Carter, for what purpose does a human child require shoes that emit light upon impacting a solid surface?" When they had passed an aisle containing breast pumps she quickly interjected, "Ask Colonel O'Neill later," before the alien could begin his inevitable string of inquiries.

Looking up, Sam noticed her husband and Daniel admiring and arguing in front of a display of cribs and bassinettes. Salvation! She marched purposefully towards the pair, stopping between them.

"Hi guys, how's it going?"'

"Oh, hey, Sam," Daniel replied. "We're doing pretty well, about halfway through our list." Sam looked at the open folder in his hands, recognizing Daniel's tiny script in the margins. She even saw a few words written in Jack's messy scrawl. "We're taking notes about the different products and features and prices so we can make a more informed decision later." he told her proudly.

"I see" Sam responded faintly, unconsciously moving her own, barely opened folder, behind her back. "I'm doing pretty well, also, but Teal'c had some questions about strollers, and I thought that since you have that item on your list you two would be better equipped to help him out? I could meet up with you three in another 45 minutes?"

She looked ahead hoping they wouldn't question her lame excuse or notice the wrinkle in her brow that appeared only when her patience had worn thin.

"No problem, T," Jack said, clapping his hand on the large alien's shoulder. "We were headed there next, anyways. You've gotta see the Babybuggy 3000, it's got storage pockets on both sides, an adjustable height mechanism, and this stair-climbing thingy that…"

Victory! She breathed a sigh of relief as she watched the three retreating forms but was sobered at the thought of what they would choose as an appropriate stroller without her. She would end up with something bigger than her car and more complicated that her naquada reactor. Hopefully, Teal'c's incessant questions would prevent them from purchasing anything.

Half an hour later, Sam was feeling much more optimistic. She had gotten through most of her list and felt that she had a fairly good picture of what she would want and need regarding the baby. She had wandered back to the clothing section and found herself fingering the tiny outfits, allowing her thoughts to wander. Her reverie was interrupted when she heard her name over the store's loudspeaker:

"Would customer Samantha Carter please come to the service desk located near the entrance of the store. Customer Samantha Carter to the service desk."

The outfit she was holding fell to the floor as Sam reached for her cell phone. The immediate logical explanation was that the base needed her, and if her phone wasn't working properly, they would call Jack, who would know how to find her. She flipped open the device, perplexed to find it was operating normally. She looked around to get her bearings, realizing that the service desk was on the opposite end of the store from where she was. She began the trek, speed dialing the base at the same time, asking to be patched through to the control room.

Her worry increased as the phone rang a third time and still no one answered. The flustered voice that finally responded to her call only heightened her concern.

"Uh, hello…I mean, Control Room, Siler speaking."

"Sergeant!" Sam replied hurriedly, pausing in her tracks. "Is everything alright? Were you trying to get a hold of me?"

"Um-" Sam pulled the phone away from her ear as Siler's voice faded and a resounding smack echoed through the speaker, as though the receiver on the other side had been dropped. "Sorry, ma'am, slippery fingers. I, uh, no, no one tried to call you, we are fine, everything's normal…"

Sam narrowed her eyes, listening to the background noise occurring twenty-eight levels underneath a mountain. Was that-? No, it couldn't be; they had been warned. The excited cheer that she heard next clinched it, however.

"Siler, I certainly hope you and the techs aren't using the gate ramp for jello wrestling again. After Simmons nearly lost his head when no one was clean enough to close the iris against that incoming wormhole, I thought you had learned your lesson."

"Ma'am, we'll get that cleaned up right away."

"See that you do," she finished sternly, snapping her phone shut.

Evidently, the base was not trying to reach her.

She continued across the store, intent on reaching her destination. She passed displays of toys, books, and furniture, but stopped short when she encountered what must have at one point been the stroller display.

A scene of carnage lay before her. Everything from stroller wheels and handles to tiny screws and nuts and bolts lay strewn across the floor. An entire row of shelving appeared to have fallen over and now leaned precariously against the adjacent shelf. Sam gulped, praying that an unexpected miniature tornado had caused the destruction. The store was large enough; maybe it had its own weather patterns? However, deep in her stomach, she had a feeling that the blame would lie with something or someone much more familiar to her.

Her suspicions were confirmed as she turned a corner to find herself at the service desk.

She locked eyes first with Daniel, whose face immediately colored as he ashamedly averted his eyes from her steely gaze. She glanced at Teal'c, who usually acted like the supervisor in such situations, keeping the other two out of trouble. However, this time the man stood aloof, his nose turned up in the air in an almost haughty manner, uncharacteristic of the normally modest Jaffa. She then turned towards her husband, raising a questioning eyebrow, and pursing her lips into a thin line. He offered nothing but met her stare with an equally formidable scowl, arms crossed over his chest. Was that blood on his arm? Sam closed her eyes for a moment, regaining her composure before looking to the fourth figure.

"Sir, I apologize for their actions. We will pay for the damages and-"

"Thank you" the decidedly pissed off store manager cut her off. "We will send you a bill. I just ask now that you please remove them from the premises." With that he, turned on his heel and stalked off, leaving Sam to herd her boys towards the exit and away from the prying eyes of curious onlookers.

Once outside, Sam stopped and stood with her arms crossed over her chest, waiting for the other three to realize she was no longer with them. Teal'c noticed her absence first and stopped abruptly, reaching an arm out to each of the other two, gaining their attention. They turned slowly to face the Major.

"Well?" she asked.

The three exchanged glances, clearly attempting to decide who should try to explain what had happened. Daniel found himself under the gaze of all three others and scrunched his nose in annoyance. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, searching his extensive vocabulary for the words that would put their actions in the best light.

"You see, Sam, the three of us were talking, and we realized that our choice of stroller would be one of the most important purchases. We went through the various factors that would have to be considered in getting a stroller perfectly tailored to our needs."

"Daniel, an intensive discussion did not cause the damage I saw in there."

"No, I'm getting to that..." he trailed off, unwilling to continue. Jack picked up instead.

"We decided that the best way to pick a stroller would be to test them. You know, do an experiment. Like scientists. I thought you'd appreciate us using a foolproof method to pick the best stroller for our baby!"

Sam interrupted, "Dear, foolproof implies that even an idiot couldn't mess it up."

Jack winced at the insult, realizing his attempted flattery had backfired.

Seeing his friend in trouble, Daniel tried again. "So, um, we each picked our favorite and, um, tested them for the various factors that we thought would be most important-"

"How did you test them?"

"Well, it depended on what we were testing for-"

"What factors did you test for?"

"Oh, stuff like strength and speed-"

"How did you test strength?"

Silence.

"Sorry, Daniel, I didn't hear that."

Properly chastised, he spoke in a small voice "We climbed to the top of the shelves and dropped them from above."

Almost afraid to hear more, Sam continued, struggling to keep her voice even. "And how did you test for speed?"

Somewhere a bird squawked. A car backfired. A light breeze ruffled the leaves on the trees.

"We raced them, Major Carter," Teal'c spoke up. "In each trial, my vehicle displayed superior velocity, agility, and acceleration. I was victorious." A smug grin slowly stretched across the Jaffa's face. "In the final run, Colonel O'Neill and Daniel Jackson were unable to maintain control of their chosen vehicles. The results of their collision drew the attention of the management."

Well, that explained the blood.

"Now, that's not true-"

"No, you didn't-"

Sam stared as the three began to argue amongst themselves.

It was going to be a long five months.


	5. Four More Months

_A/N: Sorry about the wait! Muse went angsty for awhile. Enjoy the story and let me know if you want more!_

"Look at that, see that throwing arm? That's my Jack Junior!"

"Is that a picture of baby Daniel? Lemme see!" The archaeologist of the same name approached the proud father-to-be, reaching for the photograph.

"I'm not done yet," the Colonel responded petulantly, spinning away only to collide directly with the SGC's equivalent of a portable brick wall.

Teal'c removed the print from the hand pinned between his massive upper body and the Colonel's.

"Young Teal'c appears strong and healthy. He will grow into a fine warrior."

Sam looked up from her work table as the three continued to discuss her latest ultrasound. She should have known it was a mistake to bring up the subject of what to name her unborn child. For weeks, everyone had been using their own pet names to discuss the baby. The monikers had ranged from the descriptive ("the bulge"), to the mundane ("Bob"), to the just plain weird (Jack had spent a good week and a half refusing to respond to any inquiries about the baby unless it was referred to as "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named").

A few weeks earlier, however, Sam had brought up the idea of considering _actual _potential names for the baby. The suggestion was, of course, met with gusto. Baby-name books were purchased, origins and etymologies were researched, and lists were compiled.

When they ran out of names they liked, someone came up with the brilliant idea of naming the child after themselves. Since then, Sam had just been grateful that they did not yet know the sex of the baby. Finding out it was a boy would only encourage their current narcissistic tendencies.

The practice had been enlightening, however. Upon hearing three-quarters of SG-1's newest handles for the fetus, other members of base personnel had joined in. The only thing more disturbing than Simmons asking how "the little Graham Cracker" was doing was Walter in all his Elmer Fudd-ish glory offering to provide baby-sitting services to a new born Wally.

After the rest of the base had either latched onto the gag like a symbiote to a spinal cord or gotten bored with the game and dropped it after a few days, Sam began to notice those who had not joined in at all.

It was when Sam entered the control room to be greeted only by Siler, who asked "How are the two of you feeling, ma'am?" that she realized that not once had the Master Sergeant attempted to dub the child with his own first name. After spitting out an acceptable answer, Sam sat down and began racking her brain for what the man's first name actually was. She remembered reading somewhere that during pregnancy, women could become forgetful or absentminded, but she couldn't imagine hormones would affect her so much that she couldn't remember the first name of someone with whom she had worked side-by-side for years!

Against her own judgment, she asked Jack. He stared at her for a full thirty seconds; she could tell his first instinct was to laugh out loud at the seeming absurdity of the question. His face changed though, when he realized that he, too, had absolutely no clue as to the man's given name. A devious smile slowly spread across his lips.

"You know, I can just look it up in the personnel files…."

"No, no," he interrupted her, "I have a better idea."

He then kissed her soundly, turned, and left the room.

It was an hour later that she discovered through the base grapevine that Colonel O'Neill had all personnel files sealed to need-to-know basis only. And that the new betting pool regarding one Master Sergeant Siler's first name was evidently the fastest growing pot in SGC history.

"Unscheduled off-world activation."

The klaxons blared, bringing her attention back to the present. Jack and Teal'c turned to dash out of the room, the Colonel pausing only to glance at Daniel to make sure he would stay with Sam as she made her way to the control room.

Daniel helped Sam to her feet and the two began the trek through the corridors at a more sedate pace.

"What teams are off-world?" Daniel asked.

"SGs four and seven, but neither are due back until tomorrow," Sam replied.

They continued the walk in silence, Daniel keeping a steadying hand behind Sam at all times. At about twenty weeks, Sam's prominent belly had forced her to adjust the way she moved and slept and at least one of her mother hens was almost always around to help her out. Whereas their overbearing nature had frustrated her at the beginning of the pregnancy, she had learned that having someone willing to wait on you hand and foot could come in quite handy. All she had to do was feign a slight limp and she found herself on the receiving end of a foot massage from some of the best masseuses she had had the pleasure of meeting. Her feet had never been so pampered.

As they approached the stairs leading up to the control room, the doors to the gate room slid open, revealing a familiar face.

"Dad!" Sam exclaimed, opening her arms to embrace her father, who had not been on Earth since the first few weeks of her pregnancy.

Her arms remained open as her father's hands went straight for her stomach.

"Hot damn, you're getting big! Is he kicking yet? How are you feeling? Selmak was telling me how babies in the womb can hear what's going on outside, he says he might not be developed enough yet, but do you think he can hear me?"

Startled by the rapid barrage of questioning, Sam put her arms down and responded as best she could. "Um, you'd have to ask the doctor about that, I'm not sure, and we actually don't know the sex yet. I'm doing…"

Her voice trailed off. She stared down at the glinting globe that was her father's head as he crouched down, face level with her belly. She stood transfixed as Jacob Carter, General USAF, blended with a millennia old creature, proceeded to address her swollen tummy.

She allowed him to go on until the "Gwampas" and "widdle tiny sweetie-pies" became so saccharine that Sam felt the immediate need to go brush her teeth.

"Uh, Dad? Maybe we should take this somewhere…not in the middle of the hall?"

Jacob stood up and straightened his tunic, not looking the slightest bit embarrassed.

"Sure thing. How about the commissary? Selmak and I could use some Earth desserts. Join us, Daniel. Jack, Teal'c and George are coming along soon."

The trio made their way towards the elevator, Jacob continuing his rapid-fire questions. The doors slid open in front of them and a lone figure stepped out.

"Well, if it isn't Master Sergeant…" Jacob's next word was obscured to both his companions as a gush of air was suddenly vented above them.

"…Siler. How you doing, son?"

"Very well, sir, thank you."

Sam and Daniel exchanged stunned looks as they followed Jacob into the elevator.

"Um, Dad? You know Siler's first name?"

Jacob gave his daughter a strange look.

"I always make a point to know the first names of people I work with, honey, especially when you're putting your life in their hands on a daily basis. Anyways…" Jacob put his palm flat on his daughter's stomach again, "Have you picked out colors for little Jacob's room yet?"

It was going to be a long four months.


	6. Three More Months

_AN: Another chapter! Sorry for the wait, it was a combination of busy schedules on the parts of both my beta and myself. Please let me know what you think! Also, I know what is happening in one of the upcoming chapters, but have yet to think of the content for any other chapters that may take place before the birth. I am open to suggestions if you've got'em! That said, on to the story!_

_Cling_

Jump

_Cling_

Kick

_Cling_

Nothing

"Hey, she stopped." Jack pouted, looking up at his wife from his position with his head in what was left of her rapidly receding lap, as though it was her fault that someone else had apparently gotten bored of their little game.

Sam turned the page of the paperback she was reading, only to realize she hadn't actually absorbed anything on the previous page, thanks to Jack's new-found obsession.

"Maybe he realized that flailing at you every time you make that annoying sound isn't getting across the message that he wants you to stop. So now he's feigning sleep in the hope that you will go away."

_Cling_

Kick

"That's my girl!"

Damn.

Two Saturdays previous, Sam had made the startling discovery that every time Jack flicked his finger against the side of an empty aluminum can, the baby inside Sam would move.

Two Saturdays previous, Sam had made the error of telling Jack about said discovery.

It was an amateur mistake, really, something you learned the first day in "Dealing with Jack O'Neill 101": Letting Jack know that one of his rudimentary quirks or fidgets had a decided impact on another human being was a surefire way toguarantee the behavior would perpetuate. However, in her astonishment at the reaction her baby had every time her husband's finger created a satisfying dent in the side of her Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper, she had slipped up and let him know what was happening.

And for the last two weeks, Sam was fairly certain they had been single-handedly supporting the canned soda industry due to the sheer volume Jack had purchased in order to continue his little game.

If Sam wasn't already sure she was completely mad, this would have driven her over the edge.

_Cling_

"That's good sweetie, that right hook'll keep 'em all away."

Jack continued mumbling towards Sam's protruding belly, praising his unborn daughter's innate fighting spirit. He had decided this week it was going to be a girl. The ultrasound still had not revealed the truth.

Sam just chose to refer to the baby by which ever gender Jack was not currently using.

_Cling_

At least General Hammond had forbidden the game to be played on base. After the first week when various airmen and other base personnel had started reporting to the infirmary with a ringing in their ears, aluminum cans had not been allowed within a thirty foot radius of Major Samantha Carter at any time.

Before that she had spent her time hiding not only from her husband, but also from Daniel Jackson and Teal'c, both of whom were intrigued by the exercise. Thankfully the weekend following General Hammond's ban, both Daniel and Teal'c also decided they no longer wanted to play the game.

The two had joined Sam and Jack at their home that Saturday for an afternoon barbeque. Unbeknownst to Sam, the other three had purchased a plethora of supplies to spend the entire afternoon playing with the baby/torturing Sam.

Caught up in the excitement, Daniel had failed to notice that Jack kept pushing off the responsibility of actually drinking the beverages to Daniel. No, they couldn't just dump the liquid and use the cans; there were starving people on P4X-281 who would give anything to have those provisions, after all.

So Daniel proceeded to consume artificially sweetened beverage after artificially sweetened beverage, his behavior becoming more child-like and erratic with each swig of caffeine and sugar-substitute. Before long he had grown bored of eating and drinking and "the game" and was instead running around the house, instructing Sam and Jack on exactly what needed to be done in order to finish baby proofing their home.

"SamandJackyoubettergetthosethingsthatkeepthecabinetsclosedfortheseonesandouch!hahahahahayoushouldgetsomethingforthecornerorthistablehereitssharpandhaveyouguysthoughtaboutthestairsinyourfoyeronelittleslipthere…"

He amused himself for a good quarter of an hour. Observing him was actually more helpful then listening to him, as every time he ran too fast and slammed into some wall or piece of furniture it gave Sam a better idea of what needed to be moved or changed.

However, after circling the house a few times, the immediate controlled substance high began to wear off. As Daniel slowed down, the combination of food, drink, and exertion swiftly caught up with him. Hestopped next to Teal'c, his reddened cheeks paling to a sickly green.

Before anyone could react, Daniel proceeded to empty the contents of his very full stomach across the front of one very large, soon-to-be-seriously-aggravated, Jaffa.

After that neither Daniel nor Teal'c found themselves willing to touch a can of soda, thus discontinuing their participation in the game.

In Sam's opinion, the punishment fit the crime. She had entertained the idea of toying with the two. A few strategically placed soda cans and spills about the base, in Daniel's lab, around Teal'c's candles…

Ultimately, she had decided that it wouldn't be worth the effort. Still, it frustrated her the way all three men had lost sight of the fact that their new-found entertainment had involved an activity that irritated her considerably.

Maybe she could convince the General that they all needed to attend some sort of sensitivity training…

"What are you laughing about?"

She shook her head, attempting to dislodge the mental image of Teal'c holding hands with Daniel and Jack, tears streaming down all three faces as they shared their innermost feelings.

"Fine, don't tell me."

_Cling_

She wondered if she could still maneuver her bike this far along.

_Cling_

It was going to be a long three months.


	7. Two More Months

_AN: Here's the next chapter; I'm not even going to attempt to justify the wait. And I must send out thanks to Zorb, my beta, without whom this story would suck. Lemme know what you think!_

Sam hovered on the brink of consciousness, grasping desperately at the last tendrils of sleep but knowing perfectly well that she had already crossed the line into wakefulness and there was no turning back.

Maybe if she just kept her eyes closed she'd find herself restored to The Land of Nod…

Nope.

Damn.

Resigned to her fate, she cracked open a sleep-laden eye enough to register the stream of light piercing through the curtains a few feet in front of her.

Blue curtains. With that embroidery that Jack hated but accepted because she agreed to the NHL barstools in the den.

Okay, so she was on her bed during late afternoon judging by the accursed beam of light searing her cornea. She rolled her neck and glanced down at her reclining form. Bigger breasts? Check. Round tummy? Check. Uncomfortable pressure on her bladder? Check. Yup, she was still pregnant.

Her gaze slid past her slightly swollen ankles to the ends of her feet. Her toes, in particular. Sam rather liked her toes. She liked their shape, not too long or square, relatively un-callused compared to the rest of her battle-worn feet. She liked to pamper her toes when she got the chance. While hot pink polish on her fingers might undermine her authority on base, no one could tell what was going on inside her combat boots.

However, in the past few weeks it had become increasingly difficult to give her toes the attention they deserved. As bending at the waist became more of an issue, the state of her toes further degenerated.

She had fleetingly considered asking Jack to help make her toes pretty. She knew, though, that this request would be met with the same I-love-you-for-carrying-my-child-but-there-is-no-way-in-hell-that-is-happening look that had accompanied her request that he learn to hula dance during their recent trip to Maui. Whereas her proceeding to take part in the activity with half-dressed, well-developed men had convinced Jack to try dancing, she doubted having someone else paint her toes would have the same effect. Besides, she didn't like it when strangers touched her feet.

Daniel would be willing to help, if she asked. Oh, she could imagine him approaching the task with enthusiasm, describing in detail the historical origins of painting the nails for cosmetic purposes, gesturing with the hand that also held the little enamel-covered brush. Then again, cleaning up after Daniel's attempt would be more of a hassle than doing it all herself.

Now Teal'c, on the other hand, was a more realistic candidate. She had seen him apply his own eye make-up with careful precision, and he'd probably do a better job then she could any day. Teal'c would likely appreciate a home spa day more than most of her friends, male or female. Only a man with complete confidence in his overbearing masculinity could own that many candles.

She could use a facial as well. Her thoughts as to what Teal'c must use to keep his tattoo so shiny were interrupted by her stomach's audible growl. Time for food. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she allowed herself to regain her equilibrium before rising and padding down to the kitchen.

She opened the refrigerator door and stared morosely at the contents within. While her pre-pregnancy kitchen would have contained nothing more than the leftovers from the previous evening's take-out and a half-gallon of questionable milk, the vast array of options before her was a sight to behold. Her keepers had decided that since she was eating for two she was going to eat damn well. Hence the display of fruits and leafy green vegetables currently stocking the fridge and the variety of pastas and cereals in the pantry.

But she didn't want those. She wanted a double bacon cheeseburger. Eyeing the kitchen walls moodily, she cursed her keepers for not being around when she needed them. Sure, they were gone because she had threatened to describe in detail the current state of her bowels if they didn't leave her alone for a little while, but that was…two hours ago.

Stupid boys.

She was about to shut the door with a completely inappropriate but oh-so-satisfying indignant, childish huff when something caught her eye.

Ooooh. Pickles.

Those could be good. And she was sure there was peanut butter around here somewhere…

Screw astrophysics. With the truly visionary concoctions she had come up with in the past few months, she wondered if she had missed her true calling as a chef.

Excited by the prospect of her newest idea for best food combination ever, she yanked the jar from the door in one swift motion. Unfortunately, her oft-forgotten altered center of balance reared its ugly head.

Sam stumbled back, attempting to maintain her balance. The jar flew from her weakened grip, sailing in a perfect arc across the room.

It was almost beautiful really, the way the sun from the window glinted off the sides of the glass jar.

She stared transfixed, balance regained, as the object of her desire approached the door jamb separating the kitchen from the next room. Somewhere in the back of her mind she registered the sound of the front door opening.

But that wasn't important. All that mattered were her pickles, her so dearly desired pickles, plummeting to their inevitable doom.

With a decisive smack, the jar slammed into the doorway, and for a fleeting moment she hoped that it might survive its hapless journey- hope that was crushed when the jar finished its descent, shattering in an explosion of glass, gherkin, and brine.

The pounding of feet in the hallway drew her attention from the remains of her Nobel Prize for Food (it had to exist, right?).

"Sam, are you-"

She briefly caught sight of her husband's face reflecting an unmasked fear she had seen few times in the years she had known him.

However, with his eyes locked on his wife, searching for signs of injury or distress, he failed to notice the growing pool of pungent liquid littered with supple cucumbers before him.

His feet hit the puddle, sliding momentarily forward and then lifting up in the air from the sheer velocity at which he entered the room. Sam caught sight of the bottom of his shoes as her husband's body seemed to hover momentarily parallel to the floor. She winced as he landed, flat on his back, smacking his head against the floor.

"Sam, what was-"

Her head shot up and she locked eyes with the concerned gaze of one Daniel Jackson. She was too late in her warning, watching with a mixture of fascination and horror as Daniel's feet tangled with Jack's outstretched arm. The ever-graceful archaeologist tumbled straight forward, his elbow connecting with a particularly sensitive region of Jack's anatomy.

Sam was glad she was already pregnant.

Another set of footsteps could be heard pounding through the hall following Jack's high-pitched squeal. Sam watched in awe as Teal'c struggled to preserve not only his balance but also his dignity as his feet skid across the liquid and collided with the bodies on the floor.

His arms spun so quickly Sam wouldn't have been surprised if he'd created a wind tunnel and lifted clear off the ground. His upper torso shifted back and forth to some unheard rhythm.

Sam decided then and there that when she took up her true calling and earned her degree from Le Cordon Bleu, Teal'c had to pursue his hidden dream and become a dancer.

Teal'c's battle with gravity was short lived, however, and ultimately physics would not be thwarted. He pirouetted one last time before he found himself sprawled across his friends.

She would not laugh. She would not laugh.

"Either that's a pickle against my side or Daniel is entirely too happy to be lying across me."

Daniel of old would have turned red and swiftly removed himself from the compromising situation.

"Oh come on now, Jack, if I swung that way, I could so do better."

"Hey! I'll have you know that between my rank and my irresistible charms, I am-"

He glanced up at his wife.

"-could still be a great catch. If I were interested. In men. Or women. But I am interested in women. Well, not _women_ but…one wo-man."

Teal'c managed to find his footing and removed himself from his position atop Daniel. Caught up in his exchange with Jack, Daniel didn't even notice.

"If by irresistible charms you mean the capacity to live off calories derived solely from beer and the ability to create more noxious fumes while asleep than that gas-guzzling monstrosity you call a car, then it's a wonder you've managed to find not one but two people who would be willing to marry-"

"Hey, I've spent plenty a-night on the far side of the tent to keep from asphyxiating from the _ungodly_ smells that have come out of your-"

"Wow, five syllables, when did Sam manage to find a four hour chunk of time to teach you that one?"

The silence as Jack attempted to formulate an appropriate response was interrupted by a quiet chuckle from the Jaffa.

"Teal'c…you okay?"

"I am uninjured, O'Neill."

"Care to clue us in as to what's so funny?"

From her position, Sam knew exactly why she thought it was so hilarious, but figured if she wanted that double bacon cheeseburger and a new jar of pickles, discretion would be wise.

"We have found ourselves 'in a pickle.'"

"Teal'c, that was terrible," Daniel decided as he pushed himself off Jack and sat back on the floor.

"Yeah, stick with the strong, silent thing. You pull that off much better." Jack then turned to his wife. "You know, Sam, there are more effective ways of getting the pickles out of the jar."

"Yeah Sam, we would have been more than happy to open it for you, all you had to do was ask," Daniel smiled sweetly up at her.

Sam's amused smile flattened as she rolled her eyes. Tables turned, Jack continued.

"I know your hormones are out of whack, but violence is never the answer." His lips stretched into a sardonic smile. "Make love not war."

"Is that not the event that resulted in Major Carter's current condition, O'Neill?"

"Now that was better, T!"

Sam groaned.

It was going to be a long two months.


	8. One More Month

_AN: A thousand thanks to those who have reviewed, especially those who have reminded me that they want more in the long interim between chapters. My appreciation also goes to Zorb for her advice and beta-reading services. Please let me know what you think of this one!_

Sam leaned back and shut her eyes, attempting to block out the intensely sterile atmosphere that threatened to overwhelm her senses. The many hours she had spent in similar facilities over recent years had bred familiarity with the odor of disinfectant coupled with a palpable aura of worry and anticipation. However, her current condition made the circumstances more uncomfortable than they would have been otherwise. Jack was going to pay big time when this was over.

She wasn't supposed to end up in the hospital for another couple of weeks. She was supposed to spend the evening sorting through the various gifts she had received at the baby shower that afternoon, putting away the new clothes, organizing the rest of the baby's room, getting thank you notes written. Instead, the house had been left in a state of disarray with wrapping paper on the floor and food on the countertop. She now found herself uncomfortably situated in a local emergency room.

Yep, Jack was dead meat. It was mostly his fault, anyway.

The afternoon had gone surprisingly well. A few weeks earlier Captain Tricia Hensley had been shocked - almost offended - to learn that there were no plans for a baby shower. She had demanded a guest list by the end of the week and instructed Sam to leave an upcoming Saturday open. Sam had just that hoped whatever Tricia was planning was tamer than the bachelorette party the captain had orchestrated for Lieutenant Shriver. Innovative thinker that she was, Sam would never have come up with as creative uses for jell-o as the male strippers hired for the occasion had.

Fortunately for Sam, the shower had been simple and tame. The women Sam knew from work mixed well with her friends from off-base and Sam was surprised by how much she enjoyed the party's traditional goings-on. Tricia had created a perfect mix of fun and frivolity. If she ever chose to leave her career as a weapons specialist, Sam hoped that party planning would be her next endeavor.

The sole interruption came when they summoned the boys, who had been banished to the basement to repair the mercurial water heater, to clear the room of the unwrapped gifts. Sam knew perfectly well that the three of them would poke at the water heater for five minutes tops before getting bored and giving up. Correction: Jack would poke at it with one unsuitable tool or another while Daniel would stand to the side, pontificating about the history of indoor plumbing or something equally as tedious, until he realized no one was listening. He would proceed to mock, ridicule, and question whatever Jack was doing until Jack would turn on him with the tool in hand. Teal'c would then step in, from his spot in the corner where he had before been reminding himself why this existence was better than that as Apophis's first prime, and remove the tools from the others' reach, insisting that they find another activity with which to occupy their time.

Sam knew perfectly well that she would spend the next day fixing the heater herself.

So she had to bite her lip when the three emerged from the stairwell covered with deliberate grease smears, stretching and dusting their hands off as though they had been toiling for hours. Daniel and Teal'c had felt the need the remove their shirts, apparently having worked up a sweat while involved in their manly pursuits. Jack found his way over to her first while the other two went straight for the gifts, strategically flexing and posing in front of Sam's guests.

"Where'd you get the grease?" Sam asked him.

"You left the pieces of your bike that need cleaning on the table."

"And all this time you've been-?"

"Resident Evil."

"Hm. I would have guessed whatever Final Fantasy you're on."

"Daniel wanted to, but Teal'c beat it last week."

Once Daniel and Teal'c finished strutting, the three men returned to their subterranean exile. After watching their retreat, Sam turned back to her guests only to be met with a sea of silent stares.

"Well, Sam, I knew your team was close, I just didn't realize you keep them as a harem locked in the basement!" one of the base nurses began. "I am impressed though, they seem very well trained."

"Oh, quiet, you," Sam laughed, "I'm not their keeper."

"No?" Captain Hensley weighed in. "What about the Colonel?"

"He's my husband, that doesn't count."

"Fine," Tricia continued, "but as far as I can tell Dr. Jackson hasn't dressed himself since he…came back from his trip."

"Hey, you all remember what Daniel wore before he a-… went away. I'm doing us all a favor by taking him shopping." Sam didn't feel it necessary to add that she had also decorated his new house.

"And what about Teal'c?" Lieutenant Chin interjected. "I was there when you told Sergeant Harriman to route all Teal'c's internet purchases through you for final approval."

"I'm just looking out for him!" Sam protested. A curious alien with nothing else to spend his Air Force-supplied income on was not a good combination.

Her guests seemed less than convinced.

Sam had awoken a few hours later, sprawled out on the couch she had crashed on after the women left. Looking around she realized that the boys had yet to keep their promise to take care of the post-party clean-up. An unnatural silence pervaded the house. Sam knew what three men playing video games sounded like, and this was not it.

Maneuvering herself up off the couch, Sam ambled towards the basement door, hoping the boys wouldn't be so involved in their game that she would have to descend the stairs to get their attention. Stairs were less than enjoyable when you couldn't see the three steps ahead of you because of the extra twenty pounds attached to your front.

She opened the door and was prepared to yell down in hopes of startling the boys out of their PlayStation-induced stupor, only to pause at the sound of hushed whispers. She crept partway down the staircase, stopping so she was still hidden from view.

"Jack, it's not gonna work."

"Yes it is, Daniel, if I just apply a little more force here…"

"Hey, that hurts! And stop acting like you understand the physics behind this enough to be able to fix it."

"I spend enough time around Sam, I'm sure some of it has rubbed off. Let me just yank this…"

"No! Get away! Sam's the only one who's allowed to yank anything from this point on!"

Silence.

"Daniel, Carter had better not be yanking anything, or you're gonna lose more than that hand."

"I am not losing my hand! We can break this instead!"

"No way, if Sam finds out we broke her new toy five minutes after she got it she'll kill us."

"Us? It's not our fault. You're the one who took it out of the box to 'test it out.' I just asked how it worked. You swore it was child-proof and there was no way something like this could happen!"

"Yeah, I said it was child-proof, not Daniel-proof."

"O'Neill, Daniel Jackson, should we not focus our efforts on extracting Daniel Jackson's hand without causing further injury before Major Carter becomes aware of the situation?"

It was then that Sam noticed a white trail on the floor, starting at the foot of the stairs and heading around the corner. Upon closer examination, the trail actually resembled sausages three or four times the size of the largest normal sausage, linked together. Oh, they didn't…

Sam continued her descent as rapidly as possible, no longer attempting to hide her presence. She rounded the corner and confronted the room's occupants. Jack's cringe expressed a blatant fear, while Teal'c wore the smirk he used in place of an "I'm with stupid" t-shirt, and Daniel…just looked like he was in pain. Her gaze then trailed down his outstretched arm. A circular, white piece of plastic enveloped his hand. She could see his four fingers awkwardly sticking out through the hole in the middle; however, his thumb was still crushed between his hand and the plastic.

"Please tell me that is not the top to my brand-new Diaper Genie."

The boys had the good sense not to respond.

The bottom of the device lay abandoned on the floor and Sam could see the trail of diaper-sausages ending inside.

Fixing her husband with a look that told him she would deal with him later and throwing a similar look in Teal'c's direction for good measure, Sam tried to figure out a way to remove Daniel's hand. Unfortunately, there was already some bruising appearing around the base of his thumb.

Only Daniel could dislocate his thumb on a glorified trash can.

Sam had realized they would need a doctor to keep from injuring the thumb further. If they had headed to the base, the problem probably could have been dealt with immediately, assuming there were no medical emergencies.

Daniel, however, insisted they not bother the SGC infirmary with his personal problem. Mostly, Daniel was afraid of the base grapevine.

Instead, they went to a local emergency room, and Sam had spent the last four hours uncomfortably seated in a molded plastic waiting room chair, contemplating ways she could off her husband and her two "dear friends" without getting caught.

So far, death by weed whacker seemed most gratifying, although clean up would be a bitch.

Just as Sam was expanding her list of People to Maim to include the person who invented the unopenable plastic packaging for electronics and Ryan Seacrest, a shame-faced Daniel entered the room, followed by an ER doctor. They both stopped in front of Sam.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry" the doctor began, solemnly. "We were unable to save the lid."

The apologetic doctor handed Sam three pieces of plastic while Daniel cradled his bandaged hand to his chest. Jack jumped in to ask about taking Daniel home before Sam could take her frustration out on the doctor.

"Sam, I'm really sorry. I'll get you a new one, don't even worry about it."

"Whatever, Daniel, let's just go."

Undeterred, Daniel continued, "Look on the bright side: we now know we can get from your house to the nearest emergency room in under ten minutes in case mini-you decides to make a rapid appearance."

He gave her a brilliant, mildly drug-induced, smile.

It was going to be a long month.


	9. Nine Long Months

Teal'c was a genius.

Though Sam herself was no Peg Bundy, her astrophysics doctorate, ground-breaking particle accelerator, and past experience blowing up celestial bodies ultimately couldn't compare to Teal'c's superior intellect.

She felt another contraction ripple through her and squeezed her alien friend's proffered hand, gritting her teeth to remain quiet. She didn't want to alert the men occupying the truck's front seats to her current condition. The safety of the foursome's arrival at the hospital would be greater ensured if Jack and Daniel didn't know she was in labor.

Upon realizing that she was in fact in labor, Sam had delayed going to the hospital for as long as possible. However, after two contractions rendered her unable to sit up until they were over, she had begun contemplating how she was going to tell the boys it was time.

It was then that Teal'c had first discovered her situation- she was curled on her bed gripping the comforter as the pain receded when she opened her eyes to see his concerned face hovering above her.

"Major Carter, are you well?"

"Teal'c, I think it's time," Sam responded, pushing herself off the bed.

"I will inform O'Neill and Daniel Jackson."

"No, wait!" Sam grabbed his arm before he could leave the room. "We need to go but…I don't want to tell them what's happening yet."

Teal'c raised an enquiring eyebrow.

"Last week Jack overheard me say 'It's time' on the phone with Cassie, in reference to her breaking up with her boyfriend. He and Daniel only realized they had left for the hospital without me when they were trying to explain themselves to the police officer who pulled them over for speeding."

Teal'c considered her words for a moment before turning his head to the side and replying.

"Do you require assistance walking?"

"I think I can make it to the car on my own."

"You may entrust the rest to me."

Intrigued, Sam followed Teal'c out of the room. Jack and Daniel were sprawled in front of the television, apparently equally engrossed an episode of America's Next Top Model. The next commercial break indicated they were three hours into an eight hour marathon. Huh. She could probably leave them and they wouldn't even notice.

But Teal'c, genius that he was, had a better idea.

"O'Neill," he began, standing near the foyer Sam's suitcase in hand, "I do not believe we have traversed the distance from your home to the hospital at this time of day. Is this not an hour when vehicle traffic is unpredictable?"

Jack and Daniel blinked up at him, their Tyra-induced reverie broken.

"It would be prudent for us to attempt the journey now, in preparation for the arrival of your offspring. It is wise to rehearse a routine to ensure its efficient execution."

Sam wondered if Teal'c looked up alternate ways to say clichéd phrases in his spare time.

"Yeah, practice makes perfect," Jack agreed eyeing Teal'c as though he, too, was trying to decide if the Jaffa's elaborate phrasing was intentional. "We can pick up more ice cream on the way back. And peanut butter."

"We need more chips, too," Daniel chimed in, waving an empty bag.

"Yes. And pretzels." Jack's glare now shifted to Sam.

She considered dropping the bomb right then just to see them panic, but instead simply returned his look with the stare she had developed over the past nine months. It was the one that plainly said, "You did this to me, you deal with the consequences. And if you don't like it, you can sleep on the couch."

Jack's face quickly became apologetic as he sprang from the couch, kissed her on the cheek, and moved to lock the back door.

Thus, Sam found herself on the road to the hospital with one extremely cunning alien beside her and two completely unsuspecting men in the front of the car.

Jack pulled up in front of the hospital and turned to address Teal'c. "So, Master Teal'c, are you satisfied with our- Hey, where's he going?"

Sam unclenched her jaw and looked up to see that Teal'c had exited the car and moved around to her side to help her out. She reached for his hand after he opened her door, ignoring the protestations from the front.

"Wait, not you, too!" Jack had yet to catch on.

"I thought we were getting more chips!" For a triple-doctorate scholar, Daniel could whine with the best of them.

"You may proceed to acquire your supplies. Drey'uac was in labor for twenty hours with my son. If Major Carter's experience is similar you will likely return before the birth." Teal'c bowed once before shutting the door to the truck, leaving behind the two speechless men.

Sam smirked and allowed Teal'c to help her inside.

Twenty-four hours later, Sam was no longer smirking. She was also no longer crying, cursing, or yelling at whoever was within hearing range. She was reclining back against the pillows on her hospital bed, contentedly watching the three strongest, bravest men she knew as they reverently gazed at the small bundle ensconced in Jack's arms.

"Well, aren't you just the-"

"…ten fingers, O'Neill, should we not-"

"Look at that smile! Someone already knows Daddy-"

Sam looked at the camera on the bedside table. If she could somehow get them to remove their shirts and pass around the baby, she could probably finance the kid's college education by selling the pictures. Proceeds from Daniel's alone could easily cover a public school.

Sam's glance moved from the camera to the stack of cards that Teal'c had brought from people at the SGC. She picked up the first one, opening it to reveal four personal notes from the members of SG-13. She read through each, smiling when she reached Colonel Dixon's:

"Congrats, Major. And don't worry, after you've been taking care of three, the fourth is no big deal."

She looked up to see that the baby had been placed back in the hospital bassinette. Jack seemed to be frantically searching his pockets while Daniel stood looking nonchalantly towards the corner of the room, one hand holding Jack's yo-yo behind his back. Teal'c had gained control of the remote and was focused on the TV mounted in the ceiling corner. Evidently, confirming the existence of all ten toes was less important than seeing if Marlena's memory had returned on Days of Our Lives.

It had been a long nine months.

_That's it! Let me know what you thought about this chapter or the series as a whole; any reviews or personal messages, positive or negative, are appreciated. Thanks again to everyone who has already taken the time to review! _


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